


I Can't Go Back To Yesterday Because I Was A Different Person Then

by imhereforbvcky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 16:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17707379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imhereforbvcky/pseuds/imhereforbvcky
Summary: While in the field, Steve and Bucky come across the handiwork of an old cohort of Bucky’s. He must figure out how to reconcile his past with his present.





	1. The Queen of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Will I ever stop writing utter nonsense in the gaps between Bucky's cliff diving and Civil War? Probably not.

Steve and Bucky proceeded cautiously through the dim halls. The flash of the emergency lights illuminated the area in a harsh glow that faded into almost total darkness before the next set lit its own small arc. This was not at all how they had expected to find this place. They had a target in mind, who they to take alive when his office settled for the night. What they found was the eerie silence of a disabled security system and a path of murdered guards at every turn.

“What the hell is this?” Bucky mumbled as he and Steve entered the building. Steve didn’t answer. Bypassing the front desk where the reception manager and a rent-a-cop security guard arched backward over their seats, small entry wounds in each forehead. Whoever did this was efficient. Bucky wondered to himself if it was a team or just someone like him… like he used to be.

With the power cut they abandoned the elevator and made their way up the stairwell. It was mostly clear; they found one dispatched guard on the floor below. When they reached their intended floor another guard in a dark suit and tie lay half in the stairwell, half in the hall with a bruise on his neck and a close range hole through his chest. This did not bode well for their mission. The closer they crept to the office of their target, the higher the body count rose. The likelihood of finding their man alive dropped with each corpse.

When they approached the correct office door, open about a foot, they hovered outside with backs flush to the wall on either side, just listening. There wasn’t a sound. A pin dropping would echo like a bell in the dark silence that enveloped this building like a dense fog. It was the kind of tense quiet that forced Bucky to breathe through his mouth because it was quieter, and press his shoulders into a tight hunch, ready for anything.

It was like being dropped into a freezing lake and having all the air punched out of him the second his chest hit the water. And the best solution for getting out of cold shock is to get out of the damn cold.

So Bucky nodded to Steve and moved in front of the door within seconds. With his weapon held high and ready, he’d kicked it open and quickly swept the room for hostiles.

There was no one. Maybe a few hours earlier and there would have been someone, perhaps a few, but now there was only a corpse to greet them.

“Shit,” Steve cursed under his breath, straightening his stance and reaching for his cell phone. “I’m calling it in.”

Bucky nodded as he moved about the room, searching for answers. As he approached the body he released a deep sigh. A whole new war of thoughts swirled and battled in his brain when he’d laid eyes on it. There was a playing card jammed horizontally into the victim’s mouth, stretching his lips and distorting his cheeks. A queen of hearts.

“Damn it,” he whispered to himself while Steve was busy relaying the information to the local authorities.

“What the hell is this about?” Steve asked as he hung up and zipped his phone back into his pocket. “Think it was an inside hit? They knew we were coming so they took him out before we could get to him?”

“It’s not an inside hit. Well, it could be. But they hired out for it.”

“That a calling card, then?” Steve asked, nodding to the queen of hearts, so carefully placed.

“Something like that,” Bucky agreed as he backed away from the body. “It’s proof of work completed. It’s how whoever hired her will know she made the kill and she’ll get her pay.”

“You know who did this?” Steve asked, though it wasn’t really a question. He shot Bucky a concerned glance as he moved in to examine the card. Bucky nodded as he glanced out the window at the approaching red and blue flare of the incoming police vehicles. “ _‘A blind and aimless Fury’_ ,” Steve read the writing on the card.

Bucky nearly snorted out a bitter chuckle. “Always was dramatic.”

“What does it mean?” Steve asked, as he turned toward the door, nodding for Bucky to follow. There was nothing more to see here, they’d get the report from the NSA soon enough and Bucky seemed to know more than enough already.

“It’s a quote from Lewis Carroll.”

“The Alice in Wonderland guy?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, she’s a contract killer, calls herself the Queen of Hearts.”

* * *

Back at the compound the team had gathered to comb Bucky’s brain for information on this Queen of Hearts. They couldn’t have someone running around picking off all of their leads. They needed everything Bucky knew about this woman to track her down.

Bucky sat with his arms crossed over his chest, staring out the window as Steve relayed the situation they’d walked into just a few hours ago. His mind was running in a thousand directions, down a web of tangled past and the grim prospect of the future. If they found her first, things would get ugly. Even if he got to her first it still wouldn’t be pretty.

“So how do we find this one?” Steve asked, finally, glancing to the others in the room.

“Even a disguise can tell us something. ‘A blind and aimless Fury’,” Bruce repeated, running his thumb along the edge of the crime scene photo. Bucky didn’t look up, but he could practically hear the wheels turning in Bruce’s head, trying to put the pieces together. “In Greek mythology the Furies are creatures of the underworld, goddesses of vengeance, really. They’re known to return to Earth to punish the wicked. She could see herself as a vigilante. Looking at this list of her hits from the NSA… none of them are exactly saints.”

“And some of these are big political names,” Natasha agreed, “So let’s look at areas with civil unrest, tyrannical governments…”

“You won’t find her like that. It’s Lewis Carroll,” Bucky muttered, finally dragging his gaze back to the team gathered around a stack of government folders and papers. “It’s how he described the Queen of Hearts.”

“As in, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland?” Bruce’s gaze turned skeptical, his eyebrows drawing together and a slight frown distorting his normally soft features. "It's a children's story."

Bucky nodded, picking up the list of names attributed to her handiwork. “‘ _The Queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small. ‘Off with his head!’ she said, without even looking round.’”_ Bucky recited _._  “It's sort of an advertisement. 'Blind and aimless.' She’ll take any job, take out any mark, and eliminate anyone and everyone who stands in her way. If you pick out a pattern in her victims it’s only going to lead you to her uh… repeat customers.”

“It’s a start,” Natasha argued, “Maybe we can get one of her ‘repeat customers’ to flip on her and give us something we can use. Friday, can you run the list for any patterns?”

Bucky shook his head in frustration, torn between needing their help to find her and not wanting to lead them directly to her.

“Alright, so how do we catch her?” Steve asked, picking up on Bucky’s irritation. He was always one for the bottom line.

“Let me go in first,” Bucky said. “Alone.”

“Buck, I can’t let you do that,” Steve sighed. “She took out that whole building like they were fish in a barrel.”

“If you go in there with a team I guarantee you won’t get her out of there alive,” Bucky argued, staring at the file, trying to keep his mind from wandering to the past.

“I don’t see how we can avoid it,” Steve persisted, “If she won’t come with us, we’ll have to take her down. Buck, she’s a hit-man with a body count longer than my arm!”

“You have to let me try,” Bucky insisted, almost begged. “I’ll give you her name so you can locate her, but you have to let me talk to her first. Alone.”

“We’re not taking risks like tha–”

“Why are you so keen on keeping her alive?” Natasha cut in. She eyed Bucky carefully, studying his face for any reaction, any hint at who this Queen of Hearts was to Bucky Barnes. “Who is she?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched immediately. The muscle in his cheek did that little twitch it always does when he’s stressed or anxious, when he feels like he’s being backed into a corner, when he feels caged in. Bucky Barnes had always had a terrible poker face.

“She helped me escape HYDRA once.”


	2. The Runaway

**_Madrid, several years earlier…_ **

_Bucky moved with determined purpose through the halls of the hotel. Or more accurately, the Winter Soldier did. His orders were simple: assassinate, no witnesses. The information on the target came in a neat dossier that included several photos, basic information about the target, his schedule while in Madrid, and his hotel information._

_Despite the need to blend in, the soldier had been handed his usual gear: thick black leather jacket and black cargo pants packed full of any equipment he might need for any number of unforeseen complications. He’d strapped the holsters to his body, loading firearm after firearm, followed by a host of knives. His uniform never changed, and it didn’t matter the situation._

_He’d waited at the service entrance, took down an unsuspecting member of hotel staff and slipped in the door. He moved quickly up the stairs, the determined and menacing look quickly terrified anyone he encountered until he was skulking down the hall toward the door he’d read about in his dossier._

_When the door was in sight, the familiar stifled pop-pop-pop of a handgun with a suppressor cut through the quiet hall. It still sounded distinctly like gunfire only without the flash of the explosive gunpowder, so most would assume someone was watching some James Bond flick with the volume way too loud._

_But he knew. And within seconds he’d kicked the door open and slid into the room, his own weapon raised and sweeping the room. His eyes fell first on his target, fallen backward onto the bed with a bullet hole through his skull and blood spreading in a dark stain across the mattress._

_Next, he spotted the bodyguard slumped over the desk, in no better condition with two shots through the chest. Continuing his sweep with a heightened sense of urgency he finally reached her. A lithe figure, standing bold as you please, with her shoulders squared, holding her 9mm aimed firmly at him. The thick suppressor weighed the gun differently, but she held it steady, her feet positioned perfectly beneath her._

_They both froze for several seconds, weapons trained on each other. Bucky knew she could have - should have - killed him the second he came through the door. He should have killed her by now, but he was frozen, confused and frustrated. He had orders: no witnesses. But she wasn’t a witness, she’d done the job. Why the hell was he still standing?_

_“And here I thought you were just a legend,” she purred. She didn’t move other than to tilt her head to the right and raise her eyebrow at the glimmering metal arm. “The Winter Soldier.” Her voice came out smooth and confident as she dragged out the words. It betrayed her curiosity._

_He remained still, trying to piece this together. The edges of his memory had begun to connect. It’d been a while since he’d had any reprogramming and he ached for any information about himself, anything that could help him believe he’d once had some humanity. He still wasn’t sure any knowledge this woman might have would be anything but ugly. But like a festering wound, he just couldn’t leave it alone._

_“Who are you?” he finally managed. The rough edge to his voice sounded dark and threatening, even to his own ears, but she seemed unfazed, amused even._

_She smirked and dipped her left hand into her back pocket, keeping the other holding her gun aimed at her intruder. She dropped the deck of cards onto the bed beside her and pushed them around, until she found what she was looking for. With two fingers, she flashed the queen of hearts at him before kneeling onto the bed beside his deceased target. His mission._

_“‘A blind and aimless Fury’,” she hummed, giving him one quick smirking glance. Without the slightest hesitation she reached forward pulling the man’s chin down and sliding the card between his lips._

_She removed a phone from another pocket and quickly snapped a photo of her handiwork before texting it off. “Receipt,” she explained casually before removing the sim card from the phone and smashing both with the steel shaker from the mini bar._

_“Now,” she finally turned back to Bucky, who had watched her, confused and entranced. “What are we gonna do about the two of us?” She gestured between them casually with her gun, the heavy suppressor making her movements exaggerated and almost relaxed._

_He knew better than to believe it. “I have orders to kill any witnesses,” he informed her, voice cold and firm._

_“Ah but_ you’re _the witness here, not me,” she smiled, a teasing and smug thing that made him both furious and intrigued all at once. He could only stare at her in confused curiosity. “I’m the one who did the deed, and you walked in, that makes_ you _the witness, technically speaking.”_

_“I can’t let you go and take credit for this,” he argued, staring at her feet, frustration and fear bubbling to the surface in equal measure. “I have orders.” He couldn’t go back and explain why he’d let her go, that he’d failed his mission because she completed it first._

_“Well that makes this all the more interesting.”_

_Her smirk and relaxed demeanor didn’t fit his protocol, she wasn’t supposed to be here and she should be afraid. Fear of consequence reached the surface and he moved on her faster than she could think. He had her by the throat, pinned to the wall with his handgun pressed up against her chin._

_“Okay, easy!” she commanded. She exuded confidence, but he could see the fear in the way her eyes darted back and forth between his. “It’s an interesting opportunity for_ you. _” She clarified. “Dissension among the ranks? Think about it. I was hired by HYDRA to take this guy out, and you were sent here with the same mission? Not a chance. They wouldn’t waste the resources. What else was in your objective?”_

_Bucky backed off slightly, releasing his grip on her and taking half a step back, but his gun remained fixed on her. “No witnesses.”_

_“No witnesses,” she repeated, nodding._

_“You’re my mission,” he finally realized, shifting slightly._

_“Dissension from within,” she agreed. “Your guy wants to take down my guy, so he sends you to kill my guy’s enforcer - me.”_

_“It doesn’t change anything.”_

_“Sure it does,” she sounded genuinely bright and pleased with this current situation. “It means we can both walk away.” He eyed her as she pushed his gun away with two raised fingers and began picking up the disused playing cards._

_“I can’t… we can’t just walk away,” he argued, incredulous._

_She studied him for a moment, reading the fear in every angry crease of his brow, the curve of his frown and the blaze in his clear blue eyes. “What are you so afraid of?”_

_“They won’t let me go,” he sighed, finally mimicking her actions and lowering his weapon._

_“Don’t give them the choice.”_

_She watched him move quickly to the window and pull the curtain slightly. His apprehension manifest in the way he chewed his lip and the careful glances he made to the SUV parked just outside. The one he’d come in. The one with 3 HYDRA agents - a driver, his handler, and a doctor, all waiting for him to return within his timetable._

_“Is it… is it those spooks in the SUV that you’re worried about?” she asked, “‘Cause I think we can take ‘em.” She grinned, nodding toward the two bodies she’d dispatched on her own already._

_“It’ll draw attention. I have… there’s protocol, and if I don’t follow it…” he wasn’t sure why he was spilling all this to her. Maybe knowing she was also working for HYDRA would excuse it, or maybe knowing she was on_ his _side, not theirs, or maybe it was just the way she made escape sound so… possible. “If I don’t come back or check in on time my handler down there’ll–”_

 _“Your_ handler _?” she demanded, the shock written all over her face. Her eyebrows had shot halfway up her forehead, her eyes were wide with surprise before they narrowed on him. There was no mistaking that fire: anger. “Handler. Like you’re some kind of trained animal?”_

_It was a rhetorical question, thankfully, because Bucky didn’t feel up to answering that one._

_“No. We’re leaving,” she insisted, not giving him a moment to protest. “I’ll take care of them, you just go. Keep your head down for a while. A long while.”_

_He stared at her in disbelief, a confused scowl drawing his features into what he hoped was a dark refusal, but came off more like a lost kid. “I… I don’t have any… resources.”_

_“You’re a resourceful guy in the field, I bet you can figure it out,” she smirked before slipping through the doorway._

_He followed her at a quick pace, catching up. This went against every protocol, but he’d been out of cryofreeze so long that it seemed viable. It seemed like something Bucky Barnes would try. He had to try._

_“I don’t have any money, or food, I don’t even have clothes,” he tugged on the thick leather jacket that covered his torso and glanced at the combat gear that covered the rest of him._

_“Okay, so come with me,” she suggested, as nonchalant as he could have ever dreamed possible. Who would want to protect him? Run with him? Run from the monsters who would give chase? “When’s your next check in?”_

_“8 minutes.”_

_“Plenty of time.”_

_As they exited the service entrance, she took his hand and dragged him behind her to a car parked on the street. She opened the trunk and shoved a large hoodie into his hands before carefully lifting a small cube of grey dough from within a small fire safe. He eyed her with mouth agape as she connected the wired glob to another cell phone._

_“Stay here,” she instructed before slipping into the dark shadows that swallowed the street._

_He watched her dark form ease up to the SUV he’d crawled out of when he first arrived here. She crouched low and set the small explosive just beneath it and then jogged back to the car before grabbing a duffel bag from the trunk and taking his hand again. They jogged around the corner before pulling to a casual walk as they approached the main street._

_Still holding his hand she pulled his arm over her shoulder, much to his shock. “Blending,” she explained with a wink. “Don’t look so grim.”_

_About three blocks later and two minutes shy of the Winter Soldier’s check-in time, she stopped abruptly. She pulled another phone from inside the bag and powered it up. The little bomb she’d planted was armed, and once she dialed the number only waiting for her to press send._

_“You sure about this?” she asked him one last time, giving him a chance to change his mind, to run back or run away. He looked her square in the eye and nodded before reaching forward and pressing the send button himself._

_A fraction of a second later the explosion sucked all attention to it. The billowing black smoke and bright hot flames stole the eyes and ears of everyone nearby, allowing them the cover they needed to disappear._

* * *

“But you were with HYDRA when we crossed paths in D.C.,” Steve argued.

“Yeah, well… nothing lasts forever,” Bucky looked genuinely dejected, like there was a dull ache gnawing at the center of him for leaving you.

“How long?”

Bucky shook his head and pursed his lips, both frustrated and unsure. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I can’t remember all of it. Months at least.”

Steve nodded. He understood. He knew what it meant to find a piece of the past amongst an unfamiliar and unforgiving world. To find a lighthouse in the storm. And he understood the need to chase it.

“Alright,” he finally conceded. “You can have the first crack at bringing her in, but you’re not going alone and you’re wearing a wire.”

Bucky slid his notebook over to Steve, opened to the pages on the Queen of Hearts. They were the pages where he’d tried to lock down every memory he could: every alias, ever address, every night spent huddled together in safe houses, every day roving the streets when there was nowhere else to go, every close call, every busride, and every disguise.

He pushed away from the table and started to leave, fighting the heavy sense that he’d betrayed her, all the while knowing it was the only way to save her.

“Let me know when you’ve found her.”


	3. The Consequences

To be perfectly honest, you found book club boring as hell. Sure, you loved to read, and sure, the wine was always good, but the mindless devolution into the mundane details of suburban life was perhaps the most insidious torture you'd yet encountered. And that was saying something. It was a necessary part of your life, nonetheless. Effective covers required work, and that is how you found yourself not only attending, but hosting, the latest gathering of women in your neighborhood to discuss the lost fantasy of  _Eat, Pray, Love_.

Seeking a much needed break from the plaster-cast smile you’d been wearing all evening, you excused yourself to grab another bottle of wine. As you dropped the empty bottle into the recycling bin you promised yourself that if you had to hear one more guest talk about how  _brave_ Liz was you’d down the whole bottle yourself. Hangover be damned!

“What I wouldn’t give to get away from it all!” Claire exclaimed, waving the book in front of her like it was a magic wand that would grant her wish. “For even just a week away from packing lunches, checking homework, and plucking weeds!”

“Damn, Claire,” another guest teased before turning to you with a boisterous shout. “Hurry up with that wine, wouldja? Claire needs a drink!”

You offered what you hoped wasn’t a stiff laugh before turning towards the wine rack. That’s when you saw it; when you froze; when your heart stopped and a dim hush filled your ears. It sounded like when you put your ear to a big seashell and all you hear is the muffled echo of your own heartbeat racing in anticipation.

There in the exact center of your kitchen island lay a card: a queen of hearts with red stars in bright marker over the small outer hearts. Only one person in the world would leave you that card.

Instinct drove you to glance around the room, even though you knew he wouldn’t be there. This was a warning and he’d return when there were fewer… witnesses.

The rest of the evening dragged on like a nightmare you couldn’t wake yourself from. You were trapped somewhere between needing everyone to leave right fucking now and needing them to stay and elaborate on their quiet lives for as long as possible to delay the inevitable just that little while longer.

Eventually the end did come, and you stood at the door, waving the last ladies off. You closed the door but didn’t bother locking it. He’d find a way in no matter what. As you made your way back to the kitchen, you lifted the last of the wine glasses from the living room. After rinsing about half of them you felt him enter the room. That feeling like you’re being watched, like you’re a stupid, scared rabbit in a National Geographic special just begging to be slaughtered. For a brief moment you wondered if your victims ever had the same feeling or if you were faster than their dread.

“I wondered when you’d come for me,” you mused, not turning from your task. “And whether or not you’d come as a friend.”

As you set the last glass into the sink, you turned to him, drying your hands on a dish towel. He loomed at the edge of the room as if he could put off this moment a little longer. He looked more casual than when you’d found him, but less than when you’d last seen him. One quick glance told you it was still tactical gear, even if not the sturdy leather and thick holsters he’d abandoned somewhere in Spain all those years ago. So he hadn’t come as a friend.

“I’m trying to help you,” he breathed. Somehow his voice hit you like a stiff breeze and you were frozen in the memory for a fleeting moment.

“With a Beretta?” you snapped, slowly shifting forward and reaching for the H&K you kept secured behind the paper towel dispenser. The weight was off and you could tell immediately. You dropped the empty clip out of the magazine before swiftly turning the weapon and pulling the slide back. “Didn’t even leave me one in the chamber? What the hell kind of a reunion is this?”

“Hopefully one that we both live through,” Bucky answered. He eased forward and set his weapon on the island opposite you, though his hands still hovered close to it as he gripped the edge of the counter top.

“That doesn’t sound like much fun,” you pouted at him, your bottom lip jutting out as you reached for the kitchen knives on the counter. “And it definitely doesn’t sound like  _us_.”

“Y/N, please,” he seemed tired and wary. He’d lifted his gun the second your fingers wrapped around one of the long slender knives. “You aren’t walking out of here if you don’t come with me. Now.”

You eyed him carefully, searching for the truth and the best option to walk away from this. To your surprise, he shifted his weight slightly and his fingers tapped the edge of the counter. He was nervous. When his eyes darted to the window briefly you knew he wasn’t lying.

“Hmm… I can see you believe that’s true,” you conceded, spinning the knife in your hand for a new grip before stepping around the counter. The closer you moved, the more tense his posture, the more he resembled the soldier you’d met so long ago. “The question is whether the rumors are to be believed that you’re working with your best pal now? Or if it’s HYDRA lined up outside my door.”

“Does it matter?” he asked, getting more and more frustrated by the minute, more and more nervous. Despite the wire, he had a time limit to make this happen before the others swarmed in. He couldn’t let that happen, it would only prove to be the match that lit the fuse.

“Oh it makes all the difference,” you hummed, stepping that much closer. Bucky edged back, knowing he needed to keep you out of arm’s reach to avoid that knife you still hadn’t relinquished. “If it’s HYDRA I might chance it. See, I don’t think you’ll kill me, which means I just need to flush out your backup. And really, when the choices are let them take me or let them kill me… Might be worth the fight.”

Bucky sighed, the sound came out as a sharp puff of air through his nose, his jaw set, teeth clenched. This was not going how he’d hoped it would.

“But if it’s a band of enhanced vigilantes…” you mused, cocking your head to the side. “Might not be worth the risk. So what do they want with me, huh?”

“You got in the way of a mission. Killed someone Steve wanted information from,” Bucky explained. “We can’t ignore that. You should have stayed quiet.”

You laughed, but it was too loud, too forced. It was bitter and desperate. “Well, girl’s gotta make a living somehow.”

“There are a lot of other ways you could make a living. Hell you could’ve worked at Starbucks and stayed under the radar!” Bucky was getting desperate too. Time was passing too quickly.

“Sounds like a lot of paperwork.” You grimaced and spun the knife one more time. “Is there a lot of paperwork when you get arrested? I don’t much feel like paperwork.”

“Y/N, please!” he cried, needing you to see your position. “Don’t do this. Just… let me bring you in. I have…” he glanced to the clock on your microwave, “3 minutes to bring you out that door in these or a whole team of Avengers will be knocking down your door.” He tossed a pair of handcuffs onto the counter before returning both hands to his weapon. “Please, don’t make me hurt you.”

“I’ll go with you if you tell me why you left,” you deadpanned.

“We don’t have time! 2 minutes!”

“Then you better talk fast,” you snapped.

“I… I was trying to protect you,” he sighed. “Everywhere we went, somehow, they were on us within three weeks. You needed better. How am I supposed to hide anywhere with this?” he asked, raising his left elbow. The sleek polished metal flashed under your bright kitchen lights. “I thought… I thought we’d be safer on our own.”

“Not good enough,” you cut in harshly. “We were in it together. I wasn’t running from you. If you wanted out… if you didn’t want to be with me you should’ve fucking said! Grow up and end it; don’t just disappear.” Your anger was getting the better of you now, clouding your judgement and overtaking your need to escape.

“I’m sorry,” his hoarse reply did little to ease your rage.

“I looked for you,” you whispered, tears building at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over and betray your anger for the hurt that lay beneath. “For weeks, I looked for any hint of you. I knew they were there, looking for me too, but I risked it for  _you!”_

“I know. I was wrong. I’m sorry,” he repeated, lowering his gun just slightly. He was torn between needing to protect himself and needing to hold onto you, to wrap his arms around your shoulders and whisper that it would be okay. It had to be okay. He’d said the same thing to you so many times before in so many cities, but could he ever really mean them? With you everything was a crisis and he never knew who would make it out alive.

Only a minute left. “We weren’t safer. I was wrong,” he continued. “They found me again. And you… I shouldn’t have left. I know you risked everything for me, but now I’m risking it for you.  _Please_ come with me, now.”

Your eyes flashed to his, reading the regret and fear there. Every ounce of your pain mirrored in that clear blue, and the tears finally streaked down your cheeks in a slow chase. You finally uncurled your fingers and the knife clattered to the ground.

As soon as your feeble little weapon hit the ground he was on you, strong heavy arms closing around your shoulders, a hand balling into a fist around your hair and pressing you further into his shoulder. His face dropped to the curve of your neck, breathing in every memory he could find in the soft tickle against his cheeks and nose and lips, every ounce of warmth from the familiar touch.

He hadn’t thought any of this through and as your hands slid around his back, gripping his shirt and sobbing your fear and defeat into his chest, his team burst in through every door. He’d muffled the wire in hugging you and he’d run out of time.

It felt like chaos to your clouded mind as the Avengers descended. First was the crashing rain of a shattered window, leaving little cuts across your hands. Next was the light thud and soft rolling sound of a flashbang landing on the floor near your feet. It erupted with a piercing boom and you were just glad you’d had your eyes closed and buried in Bucky’s arms.

Bucky gripped you tighter but in mere seconds strong hands gripped your biceps from behind and tore you away. The sound of Bucky shouting was a vague and distant protest to your ears, still ringing and muffled from the flashbang. Before you could offer your surrender, a hard, swift downward step landed at the back of your knees and you buckled to the floor. There was a knee buried between your shoulder blades and a large hand on your head, holding your cheek to the floor.

“Steve! Get off of her!” Bucky’s voice called through the smoke and cut into your haze. “She wasn’t fighting it; she’ll go easy.” The broken glass dug into you cheek and jaw under the heavy press of Captain America’s hold. Another set of hands reached for your wrists and yanked them behind your back. The cold metal handcuffs clapped over your wrists and the pressure finally eased on your back.

Sam finally released Bucky just as Steve and the heavily outfitted NSA agent each slid an arm into the loop between your arms and body, hooking just under your shoulder to pull you to your feet. Bucky immediately rushed to you, both hands sliding across your jaw as his thumbs carefully swept the tears and blood from your cheeks. You winced and drew in a sharp breath through your teeth when he grazed a piece of glass still embedded there.

“Damn it, Steve,” he hissed in response.

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve answered, though he didn’t sound all that sorry. “We couldn’t take any chances.”

Without another word they turned you toward the front door. By now every room in your house was flooded with the flashing red and blue of the law enforcement vehicles waiting for you outside. They guided you to a tall armored truck and you climbed in without protest. As they worked on attaching your shackles to the latches inside the truck, Bucky approached the door.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely lifting his eyes from your feet. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“Yeah?” you asked, leaning your head back onto the steel wall behind you. “Tell that to this guy,” you nodded toward the agent beside you in full armor holding a rather large semi automatic rifle. “Pretty sure he’s looking for a few life sentences on me.”

The smallest hint of a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “Pretty sure you’ve earned it, sweetheart.”

“You and me both.”


End file.
